Affable unflappable an incomparable parable & fable
Telegraph path defending ending era sending a cable
As Indian power does deflower our Test tower of Babel
Reliant on our defiant thoroughbred in the Kiwi stable
Does what says on the label as Kane so keen and able
Hushed kudos so humble yet giant sat at the top table
Hardy a great first rate trait played ball late almost tardy
Held aloft by hands so soft weaving his third man spree
Inner fire to the wire winner desire is Kane down to a tee
Outwitting Kohli and sitting pretty on top of the WTC tree
Fitting in his twilight dimming the limelight is not about me
Travesty not to marvel at artistry & majesty of his tapestry
Heavenly ability with angelic humility part of a holy trinity
Stoic & heroic Martin's successor a professor still ego free
With Crowe & Hadlee bestow Black cap history our nobility
Affinity for infinity for all three so totally Kiwi simply divinity
Bigotry flows through their veins
Sharing happiness at other peoples pain.
Sitting pretty in their privilege they never earned.
Their comfort built on the backs of Black people burned.
No color is a color of evil.
No giving a damn if it's not your own people.
Hate for others hiding behind pale skin.
At least we weren't the ones destroying our kin.
Evolution has not gone very far.
Their design is a design built to leave scars.
They are your coworkers, your friends, your doctors
Quietly holding all that hate stands for.
Wake up and start caring about the world.
They are revealing themselves with more than just words.
They only care about themselves.
Discernment is a gift you should give yourself.
My tiara has powers
but I just use them for good;
Protecting the people I can
out of sight sitting pretty;
Mystic personality
umbrella of the cosmos,
spreading the joy of royal.
Confusing walk
It was the longest street in the world shops on each side
selling salami and cheese depending on the shop, the same product
had a different name proclaiming to be the best.
Today the shops are empty, save for a few dogs, people are tired
of salami and cheese, you can’t fool them with a fancy name hinting
they are Italian made in Livorno; what a fraud!
In shops, there were cheese parties for mice sitting pretty nibbling
the stray dog and I were not invited; we kept on walking in the hope
of finding a butcher selling hamburger meat and dog bones.
Where the street ended in another country consisting of sheep
clog dancing shepherds, my sister had a hotel, I could get a room
In the basement, but preferred to board a clipper sailing to Japan.
Tenderness whispers flow across the winds
Swept across my way
Seeking that mmm
Looking for that Love
Love yah
So elusive
My heart just can’t take it
Anymore
I give it all to my soul
To find the intertwine connection that I need
Give it all my all
To find that Love
I need to have your lips
Mmm
Pressed against mine so sensually so alluring your taste
You taste so damn good
I need that Love
Mmm hmm
I need to feel you against me
Skin on skin
Wanting that
Wanting you
Wanting you for the ever after dream
Dress in white
Dancing together
Sitting pretty on our honeymoon
Staying close
Staying in love
Forever and forever
Our fairytale
‘‘Nature calls the shots,”
Said the raindrop sitting pretty
Next to the russet leaf
Dangling like a trapeze dancer
“I would love to see you dance,”
Said the raindrop to the leaf
The leaf refused politely and said
“I would love to see you shed that
tear for me before I dance and fall,”
The wind was passing by and overheard
Their conversation and caressed them both
As they fell together watching each other
Both fulfilling each other’s dying note!
19.9.2021
Syria, my lovely
Asma al-Assad, the wife of the president in Syria
her crime is to be married to Bashir al- Assad.
Since the president of Syria is sitting pretty, they had to find a softer target hence his wife.
Hadn´t she defended the Syrian army, said they were brave
they must be after ten years of war?
Remove her British citizenship, and we shiver by the thought.
There was an insurrection, and it was crushed.
It could have stopped there if the west had not meddled and
American bombs terrorized the civilian population.
This endless war many Syrians fled, who can blame them?
NATO, too, got involved, this dangerous beast full of generals looking for a fight.
any action, as long it has a pre-fix, “democracy.”
Assad´s chemical attack on the civilian population, surely a war crime.
A Canadian reporter said it didn´t happen, it staged by the white helmets, and no one was reported dead.
The lady reporter had upset the narrative, was sent home in disgrace and now covers handball matches in Seven Rivers.
I Denmark they are sending the Syrians back they say it is safe, they will be safe if the west will stop interfering
NO BUSINESS LIKE SWAMP BUSINESS
There’s no business like Swamp faux business
There’s none do such a show
Everything about it is illusion
Everything about it is a lie
Where else could you get such righteous feeling
Than when you’re kneeling; no reason why
This swamp business is trompe business *
Just like a film studio
They can turn the Congress to a fortress though
They’re sitting pretty and in full flow
Like a new production of the Alamo
They go on with the show
There’s no business like Joe business
He knows how to pro quo
Keeps his family well fed in gravy
While he makes out like an average schmo
Long career in congress plagiarising
Politicising
What else to show?
There’s no business like vote business
He hides in basement low
While his thinking got more than a little bent
His words more prone to an accident
Next day in the White House he’s the President
He goes on with the show
* That’s ‘trompe’ (not Trump!) as in ‘trompe d’oeil
He did it!
He's now sitting pretty
on the roof
of the Earth,
looking down
smelling the mountain air
with peacock-like pride.
The calluses on his hands,
the aches and pains;
the dripping sweat
on his brow,
well-earned.
The towering summit,
his place in the sun.
Glory, at last.
He's made it
after years of
sweat, toil and blood.
He's accomplished a goal
naysayers swore he wouldn't.
Their skepticism
he used as fuel.
Cat's got their tongues now?
He's done it!
He beat Sisyphus
to the
top!
Date written: 01/27/2021
I don't know about the rest of the world,
But New Zealand will be sitting pretty this Christmas.
Santa may have trouble delivering the presents for the children,
We are not out of the woods with Covid, but fingers crossed.
Some family members will be stuck overseas,
And the number of homeless is on the rise.
But with enough Mangoes and Bananas for all,
We will be sitting pretty this Christmas.
We are so glad the government got their priorities right,
And let Mangoes and Banana's through without going into isolation.
We hope the rest of the world takes note,
so, everyone no matter where they live can have Mangoes and Banana's
too, this Christmas.
For Breakfast Christmas morning we will be serving banana pancakes,
With blueberries and strawberries etc.
Christmas dinner will be followed by Mango ice cream and bananas with
chocolate sauce.
And maybe a Mango Drink with or without Alcohol.
Of course, if we get tired of Mangoes and Bananas,
We are never short of Kiwi fruit or cream and chocolate.
Grandpa and his sister, Aunt Jay,
born on the same day —
not twins, yet
they departed the earth’s way
within days
of each other.
Today is Grandpa’s birthday —
how many years I don’t know.
He left his body in his seventies
and it’s been so and so
many years ago.
Aunt Jay, I remember her farm,
her kids I knew later in their lives —
the stories they would give,
precious about my mom and her twin,
sitting pretty, as a play they would spin.
Mom tells me today, on a call,
“It’s my daddy’s birthday,” and all.
The years melt away trespasses and tears,
kin imperfect, but loved above all.
I remember Aunt Jay, in passing,
but Grandpa is Grandpa — mine.
He loved my daughter when she was nine.
One time she sat upon his lap, his heart
melted, mine too — a sign
also of his love for me.
Grandpa carried tobacco in his cheeks,
helped in chores for the people on his street.
I’d see him once, twice a year —
memories are dear.
He’d be up on a ladder painting his house,
on the porch chatting it up with mama’s spouse
or watching a small t.v. and handing us kids
a silver dollar — no one was watching,
as if he was Santa. Well...he acted the part.
5/8/2020
The Gentle Ride
A light breeze brushed and passed me by
As I rode along the timeless scene,
I marvelled at the pellucid sky,
A light breeze brushed and passed me by.
And overhead I saw a swallow fly,
Effortless, supreme; so very serene.
A light breeze brushed and passed me by,
As I rode along the timeless scene.
On Your Bike
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee
Rainbow warrior leading the quest,
Passing by Mrs Fay Randonee
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee.
Peloton 'sham-Wahs sitting pretty,
Waiting for the ultimate test.
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee
Rainbow warrior leading the quest.
Two Wheels Gone.
On the velocipede with various speed
Sat a dandy horse astride in tweed.
Mrs Penny Farthing, her derrier aflush
Her bone shaker making her all ablush.
Some say she's as daft as a brush,
Many would say she oft dillydallied
On the velocipede with various speed
Sat a dandy horse astride in tweed.
A lonely wall flower sang to me
Such lovely verses it sang to me
From a perch so very high
On this lonely decrepit wall
A lonely wall flower sang to me
It sang to the deep depths of my soul
The passage of time is visible
On this graffiti covered wall
A lonely wall flower sang to me
But still I wonder if I understood
This speck of beauty on a broken place
On a wall that might fall tomorrow
A lonely wall flower sang to me
Such lovely verses it sang to me
A lonely wall flower sang to me
Sitting pretty in my kitchen window
Dancing with the sunbeams deep sea reflections
so beautiful adoring on cloud nine sitting pretty
upon golden sands shifting salt of the ocean turns
Each wave a blessing in disguise
standing regal one moment in time
looking back captivating starlight was born
Mirrors mist over arched jewels colour radiance
fixing thoughts on an image beholding your word
no diamond ever cut comes close to you
TULUM
a fortress on the cliffs,
smiles down
at the paradisaical
Riviera Maya.
iguanas, reside in ruins,
overlooking
the Caribbean sea,
sitting pretty
for photographs.
long gone from old world -
sacrifice and fear,
Mayan riches and power,
of Playa del Carmen.
iguanas rest, play
tourist peek-a-boo,
never give thought nor sorrow,
to the people of yesteryear.
we don’t fear their reptile existence,
their abundance,
nor daunting size,
perched upon impressive buildings -
an ancient city of life and death,
good and bad,
repainted by the critical sun.
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
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